Gemotions

The dim lighting of the bar did little to soothe the tension knotting in Henry's stomach. He’d lost his job, and the city felt like it was closing in around him. He'd decided not to tell Clara just yet. He sat, nursing a pint, watching the foam slowly recede.

Clara arrived a few minutes later, all smiles and the scent of her perfume. She kissed him lightly, a gesture that felt almost foreign.

“How was your day?” she enquired, tilting her head. He wished he could lie and say it had been okay.

Her words came then, flowing smoothly, a cascade of sounds that felt both familiar and alien. Her Spanish was impeccable, far better than his own. She'd been practicing in secret. He found himself unable to return her gaze.